


Point By Point

by bluejay_unit



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, brief discussion of triggers and mental health symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejay_unit/pseuds/bluejay_unit
Summary: Patrick's teasing brings up some bad stuff for David. Patrick uses the resulting conversation as a chance to clarify how he feels about David, and what he thinks about David's opinions of himself.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 9
Kudos: 228





	Point By Point

Those who only know David and Patrick peripherally might be surprised to learn that they don’t actually fight a lot. The thing about using teasing as 90 percent of the ways they flirt with each other, is that it made them very good at communicating what’s bothering them in an affectionate way. But sometimes it also makes them a little _too_ comfortable with what it’s ok to joke about, and when it goes too far, it really knocks both of them for a loop.

They’re in the car, just on their way out of town to sign a contract with a new vendor. David shakes his hands in distress at Patrick’s adherence to the speed limit.

“Okay, can you go a little faster? I don’t want Anna to think we’re not serious because we’re late,” he says.

“Oh, are we late? I wonder why that would be,” Patrick teases.

David purses his lips. “I know what you’re implying. But it’s not like I _planned_ to be late!”

“No, you just kept planning your outfit for 10 minutes after we should’ve left.” Patrick smirks, hands shifting on the wheel as the road curves ahead of them.

“Our impressions on the vendors are important! And I just couldn’t find anything that worked.” David feels his hands flying too quickly through the air as he talks, he grabs the strap of his bag instead, and presses his nails into his palms to keep them still. David swallows. “Most of the vendors don’t come in to the store very often, so I represent the brand to them. That makes how I dress--,”

“…Part of maintaining the complete brand experience, I know,” Patrick finishes for him, chuckling a bit in exasperation, and the fact that he can quote David’s rationale from memory. “But you see how disagreeing with your own outfit choices from the night before, prioritizing getting there on time _and_ not getting up before 9 makes that a bit difficult.”

David doesn’t answer right away. Patrick doesn’t notice the heavy silence.

“I don’t _want_ to be difficult,” David says in a quiet voice.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Patrick jokes, not looking at David as he turns the corner.

David looks down at his lap, and suddenly his eyes are stinging, and he grips his bag tighter. “You know what?” he says, voice soft and shaking slightly, “I should’ve let you do the vendor trip alone. I don’t need to bother you by being here.”

Patrick’s head flies up at that, face fallen, as they suddenly stop at an intersection. “What? David, I didn’t--,”

David doesn’t look at him as he unbuckles his seatbelt hurriedly, and gets out of the car.

“ _David,_ wait!” Patrick sighs as the car door cuts off his words, and David quickly goes back down the block. Patrick twists around in his seat to watch him go, debating pulling over and running after him, but he went the wrong way down the street. The car behind him honks the horn at him, and he sits back down to drive away.

He decides to keep going to the vendor, late as he is already. He figures it would give them both time to cool off, but by the time he gets there and apologizes profusely to the vendor, his own irritation has long since faded. The ride back to town seems to take twice as long, in his bitter mood and already missing David.

He tries to think over what they said, wondering how it went wrong so quickly.

 _Could’ve fooled me,_ he thinks. He winces, the words sounding much harsher in his memory than he meant them to be.

As he replays it his head (over and over again) it becomes quite clear that the conversation _he_ was having was not the conversation _David_ was having. Patrick knows that David can be particular, that their different priorities can clash sometimes, but he doesn’t love him any less because of it. He thought that was obvious enough (to _both_ of them) that he could joke about it, but clearly he’d been wrong. Patrick had just been trying to move past it, and get back to their normal teasing rhythm. But now that he thought about it, David had probably heard those things before, from much crueler people, who used it as an excuse to abandon him. It must’ve hurt to hear from him.

He didn’t think the motel would be David’s first choice of respite, but he knows David might have a chance at being alone there this time of day, so he goes there first. When Mr. Rose opens the door and it becomes clear that David’s not there, he quickly makes his excuses for not knowing where David is and goes straight to the store.

The store is dark. He unlocks the door with his own key, and he’s concerned for a moment when he doesn’t see him, until he catches sight of David’s shoes through the doorway to the backroom. He cautiously enters the backroom. David’s sitting on the floor against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Hey,” Patrick says, in hushed tones, “Can I sit?” He gestures with his keys to the empty spot next to David.

David nods. Patrick sits next to him against the wall, cross-legged. David is quiet, but the remnants of red, puffy eyes reveal that he had been crying.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says. “I would hope you know that I was kidding when I said you were difficult, but that doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve known not to joke about that. I would never have said it if I realized you still felt that way, but I should have realized.”

David didn’t look up from the ground. “You shouldn’t have to apologize just because I was being too difficult to love.”

“Woah, hey, I never said that,” Patrick answers firmly, trying to catch his eye. “And it’s not true! That’s the _easy_ part. I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.”

David shakes his head. “I just don’t want you to grow to resent me. Everyone gets tired of me eventually. Just because you seem to have more patience than anyone else I’ve met doesn’t mean it won’t run out someday. I haven’t really changed. At some point I’ll get to be…too much to deal with, and you’ll want out but be too nice to say so, and I don’t know what I’ll do when that happens.”

“That’s _not_ going to happen,” he insists. “I’m not here because I’m putting up with you, I _want_ to be with you. Sure, we have things we could work on communicating about and compromising on, but you’ve also made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m not giving that up for anything.”

“I wanted to be better at this. I don’t want it to be _work_ to be with me.” David sighs.

“David, _all_ relationships take work. That’s not a bad thing! It makes us better, and it’s worth it. _You’re_ worth it. I never doubted that for a second. I mean, wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

“Of course, but—,”

“Then we’re good. As long as we both want to do the work, nothing else will get in the way. Not if we don’t let it.”

David starts to feel a flicker of hope at his words, but he can’t really believe it, even with his infectious confidence. He needs to make Patrick understand the fear rolling through him.

“But you don’t need me to put up with anything for you! Because you’re a…a model citizen, and I’m a needy, opinionated attention whore with a mile-long list of triggers who is allergic to compromise.”

Patrick lets out an angry breath at the words, nostrils flaring, and David shuts his eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.

“You know, I don’t really know what to do when you say things like that,” Patrick says, and David can hear the tension in his voice. “Because if anyone else were talking shit about you like this, I think I’d punch them.”

David can’t help but snort. “You’re far too sensible for that.”

“I don’t know, for you I’d at least seriously consider it,” he responds, with a flicker of a smile.

David tips his head back, blinking rapidly at the ceiling.

“But, David, I’m not going to respond like that when it’s _you_ saying it, partly because I don’t want to yell at you, but also because I know you won’t believe me, even if you want to.”

David looks away at the last part, feeling like a failure. Patrick takes his hand where it lays in his lap.

“And I can’t pretend it doesn’t make me mad to hear it. But you know I’m never mad at _you_ , right?” He gives their connected hands a shake. “This negative stuff, I know it comes from a part of you that you’re stuck with, too. And I _see_ you, god, I see you _trying so hard_ to…to not listen to that voice. To trust, in general, but I think me in particular.” He smiles shyly, and David’s definitely crying again, but Patrick has the grace, the tact, not to mention it.

“And I feel honored, as much as it breaks my heart that it’s so hard for you. But that you keep doing all that work anyway just proves to me you really do want to trust, and believe better things about yourself. And that you’ve chosen me to trust, I just…” Patrick shakes his head, his own voice wavering a little.

David swallows, looking at him. “Of course I trust you. And I want to believe you when you tell me all the reasons I shouldn’t hate myself, but the voice in my head that says all this terrible shit, sometimes I just--“ he says, voice breaking, “ I can’t make it stop.”

Patrick squeezes his hand. “You’re so much stronger than that part of you, David. It’s not your fault that it comes out sometimes.”

David inhales on a sob, though it’s relief that’s coursing through him.

Patrick shifts in his seat, facing him more. “But hearing that part of you, sometimes I want to…can I just…” He sighs, letting go of his hand to trail his hand up his arm until it’s resting on his shoulder, his thumb stroking his collarbone. “Can I talk to _just_ that part of you? Let it know what I think about its opinions of you? Can we do that?”

David waits to hear where this is going, but Patrick seems to actually expect an answer, so he nods his permission.

“Good, because I think everything you say about David is _bullshit_. Let’s see, let me take it point by point, what did you say he was? Needy? That’s not even a negative. Everyone needs things from other people, partners especially. I need him for plenty of things.”

Patrick scoots over so he’s sitting directly in front of David. David squints at him when he realizes Patrick’s not meeting his eye. It’s not until Patrick points at his forehead as he talks that it clicks that he’s talking _to his brain_ , of all ridiculous things. He shrinks down against the wall a bit more.

“And it’s because of _you_ that David discounts everything he does for me. He’s made such a difference in my life, and you should let him be proud of that.”

David squirms a bit in his seat, unable to look at Patrick.

“And what else, opinionated? Yeah, David’s got opinions. They’re actually pretty good ones. I don’t think I ever told him this, but I love his sense of style and aesthetics. Even when we have different opinions, I love that he’s so unafraid to be himself. It’s one of the first things I admired about him. And for someone allergic to compromise, he sure does it a lot. Even when it’s difficult for him, he does it anyway, to make me happy.”

Patrick clears his throat, and his tone grows quieter, and more serious. “David and I have talked about his triggers before. And I don’t say it much, because it isn’t…helpful, but--,” Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, “I desperately wish I could go back in time, and stop anyone from ever hurting him, but I can’t. So what I will say,” Patrick opens his eyes, drops his pointing finger and waits to catch David’s gaze, “Is that _it is not his fault_. Having triggers is not something you can control, and I would never hold that against him, and you shouldn’t either.”

Patrick tilts his head, making sure he’s remembering everything David said. He addresses David’s forehead again.

“And I don’t know where you got the idea that _attention whore_ is an insult. I don’t like that you use that, partly for the implied promiscuity, which wouldn’t be a negative even if it were true of David. But also, is seeking attention supposed to be a character flaw? This may be news to you, but wanting attention is a _fundamental human trait_. Everybody needs attention! It’s not wrong or greedy to want people to notice and care about you. And I don’t know if _you’ve_ noticed, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off David Rose since we met! He’s the most interesting person I’ve ever known, and I _want_ to be paying attention to him, so stop making him feel bad about it.”

And then Patrick puffs up his chest, and David sees the twinkle of humor in his eyes as Patrick addresses his forehead again. “And if I _ever_ hear you talking shit about my boyfriend again—,”

David smiles, rolling his eyes. “ _Patrick_ …”

Patrick pokes him in the chest, keeping up the act. David tries to brush his hand away, but Patrick catches it, trapping their clasped hands between them as he leans in, dangerous look in his eye, smirk not quite concealed. “I’ll _run you out of town_.”

God help him, after all that, he’s laughing. _Jeez, he’s good,_ David thinks. And then, _this might actually be the weirdest thing to turn me on since puberty._

Patrick’s expression softens, and he leans back, looking almost sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

David’s baffled. “What?”

Patrick grimaces. “I know that was kinda weird, and a bit selfish, I get that the rationalization makes me feel better more than it helps you…”

David shakes his head, grabs both of his hands. “No, it’s okay, I…” He takes a deep breath, overwhelmed by the love and care Patrick shows him. He knows he could take the easy way out, and respond by climbing in his lap and kissing him senseless. But after all the _perfect_ things he just said, David knows he has to put his feelings into words.

“You understand me better than—you _see_ me in a way no one else ever has,” he begins. He takes a steadying breath, and looks him in the eye. “Sometimes, when you look at me, it’s like you can see _me_ , all the way down. Past all my walls and deflections and affectations to just…me.”

Patrick swallows heavily, gazing back. His voice is gravelly, just above a whisper. “I just hope you see that as a good thing.”

“Oh, it scares the shit out of me,” he says, because it’s the moment for honesty. “But it also… I used to be afraid that one day you’d look at me like that and see enough of my mess to not want to stick around.” Patrick quickly squeezes his hands tighter, and he squeezes back, trying to breathe enough to keep his voice steady. “But you never did. You never judged me, or looked at me any different. And if you can see all this and still be in love with me…”

“I am. I do,” Patrick says without hesitation, smiling softly.

David sniffs. “You get inside my head. And while that’s a messy, nightmarish place I wouldn’t recommend to anyone,” he says in a rush, earning a small grin, “…You make me feel safe. I am stuck with a voice in my head that insists everything I do is wrong, but with you, I don’t feel alone in fighting it anymore.”

Patrick, with his eyes shining, cups the back of his neck as he finishes his sentence, resting their foreheads together, noses brushing. “I promise you’re not alone. You’ll always have me on your side. I want to be worthy of being the person you let in, I think about it all the time. I know you’re strong enough to deal with this stuff yourself. But you don’t have to do it alone. I hope you know I’ll always be there, anytime you need me to remind you of all the reasons you are and deserve to be loved.”

Maybe, somewhere in the world, there are words worthy of responding to that, but David’s not a fucking poet. So now he _does_ kiss him, and he crawls into his lap and keeps kissing him. He throws his arms around Patrick’s neck and pours all the gratitude and softness and adoration he feels into it, because that’s the best that he can do.


End file.
